Tuesday 4 August, 12.15 P.M.
Delores Kaminsky was indeed a hugger, Marcus thought as he was dragged down into the petite woman’s embrace. And she was far stronger than she looked. He patted her back awkwardly as she held on hard.
Finally she let go and rocked back on her heels to look up at him with a smile that made him smile back. ‘It is very nice to meet you, Marcus.’
About thirty-five, she had china-blue eyes, porcelain skin and short blond curls. Standing no more than five feet tall, she resembled one of the antique dolls Audrey had collected as a girl. The enormous dog that had been watching him like a hawk since they’d approached curled up at her feet, apparently welcoming him as well.
‘Likewise, Delores. I understand that I’m the last O’Bannion sibling to have the honor of meeting you.’
Her bright blue eyes twinkled. ‘Well, we were both busy there for a few months, what with ICU and rehab. I’ll forgive you this time. Besides, you’re here now and you’ve brought my favorite homicide detective, so all is forgiven.’ She leaned up on her toes to whisper loudly, ‘But next time, kiss her, okay? I think it’d sweeten her up.’
From the corner of his eye he saw Scarlett’s cheeks darkening from bright pink to an even brighter red. Marcus suspected his own cheeks were a bit red too. ‘If I’d known that Stone brought you flowers and candy,’ he said, ‘I’d have brought you something even better. Purely in the spirit of sibling rivalry, of course.’
‘Better than flowers and candy? How is that even possible?’ She threw a grin in Scarlett’s direction, undeterred when the detective scowled back. ‘You’re gonna have your hands full with this charmer, Scarlett.’
‘I’d rather have my hands filled with evidence,’ Scarlett said brusquely.
Delores laughed. ‘Oh dear. Detective Bishop is giving us the I’ve-got-better-things-to-do-with-my-time look, so come on. I’ve got the video set up on my computer. Angel, with me,’ she said, and the enormous dog was instantly at her side. ‘Don’t worry,’ she added as an aside to Marcus as they started walking – very slowly – toward a room off the kitchen. ‘Scarlett does that look when she really wants to laugh but doesn’t want anyone to know.’
Marcus glanced over his shoulder at Scarlett, who trailed them with her arms folded tight over her chest. ‘Is that true, Detective?’
Scarlett glared. ‘No.’
Marcus turned back with a snort, following Delores into a room that, underneath all the empty dog cages and bags of kibble, was probably her office. ‘Sorry,’ she said, flicking her hand dismissively. ‘I have enough energy to either take care of my animals or clean. It’s obvious which one wins every day.’ She pointed to the behemoth of a computer sitting on her desk. ‘It’s on the screen. All you have to do is push play.’
‘Holy crap, Delores,’ Scarlett exclaimed. ‘How old is this PC?’
‘I don’t know. Four years, maybe five? I bought it used.’
Scarlett tentatively inspected the CRT monitor with its bulky rear section. ‘Do you have some weird sentimental attachment to antiques?’
Delores’s lips twitched. ‘No, I have a sentimental attachment to my money. I can pay for a new computer or buy food for fifteen dogs for a month. The computer still works and that’s the important thing. Now sit in the chair and watch the video.’
Scarlett met Marcus’s eyes and pointed to the chair. ‘You’re the one who’s seen the dog. You should watch it.’
He obeyed, dropping into the chair with a wince. The chair was far older than the computer system and very uncomfortable. Delores obviously ran her shelter on a shoestring budget. It made him wonder how much money Audrey had been able to raise and what Delores had done with it. He suspected his answer lay in the bags of dog food stacked floor to ceiling.
He jiggled the mouse, disrupting the dog and cat screen saver and revealing the video Delores had loaded. He hit PLAY, then stiffened when Scarlett leaned in to watch over his shoulder, the scent of wildflowers filling his head once again.
An outdoor ring filled the screen, empty except for a few people wearing ribbons, identifying them as judges. The camera panned the onlookers, gathered in groups around the ring’s perimeter.
‘Not what I was expecting,’ Scarlett murmured. ‘I thought they’d be in an arena with chairs, like on TV.’
‘Those are national benched dog shows. This is a regular show,’ Delores said. ‘It was hosted by one of the local clubs in Indiana about two years ago. When the shows are held close by like that, just about all the local show dogs enter. I went because one of my clients entered her standard, but that was a male, so not the dog you’re looking for. If the dog you’re looking for is local and young, there’s a decent possibility that it was entered. It’s definitely show quality.’
‘You started this midway through the video,’ Marcus said. ‘Why?’
‘Because all the stuff leading up to it is categories you don’t care about, puppies and younger dogs. Okay, so here they come. There are twelve dogs in this class. Each one will take a turn around the ring, so you can watch it. You’re looking for a white female with a continental clip – that’s the most common one, with the rosettes on the hips. But you’re lucky because four of the females are either black or cream-colored and three of the dogs are male.’
Marcus blocked Scarlett out of his head, focusing solely on the dogs in the ring. He immediately eliminated two of the females as being too big. The remaining three he watched running around the ring many times before slowly eliminating one of the others, leaving two.
He looked over his shoulder in time to see Scarlett straightening so that they didn’t bump noses. ‘I can’t tell the difference between these two dogs,’ he said, ‘but they’re both close to the dog I saw in the park.’
‘Numbers 121 and 130,’ Delores said. ‘I don’t remember them, but we can check their names and owners. Forward the video to twenty-one minutes, ten seconds,’ she instructed.
Marcus paused the video on the image of a booklet opened to pages listing all the dogs in the category, with their American Kennel Club names and owners.
‘You videoed the entries list,’ he said approvingly. ‘Very smart.’
‘Not so much,’ Delores chuckled. ‘I was never organized, even before . . . well, you know. I photographed the page after each class was shown because I knew I’d lose the program. But we can get the owners’ names from here. Past this, you two are on your own.’
Scarlett placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning closer to the screen. ‘Can you blow it up a little, Marcus? I can’t read the font.’
Marcus did so, then sighed. ‘Number 121’s owners live in Chicago.’
On the next page, however, they hit pay dirt, and Scarlett hummed deep in her throat, a satisfied growl. ‘But number 130’s owner is Ms Marlene Anders, Cincinnati, Ohio, and the dog’s name is Coco.’
‘Bingo,’ Marcus said grimly, then pushed back from the desk. ‘Can we take the video file with us, Delores?’
‘Sure. We can copy it to a flash drive.’ Delores opened a drawer and pawed through the junk inside until she found a drive, then handed it to Marcus. ‘Go for it.’
While Marcus copied the file, Scarlett called someone on her team to run a background check on Marlene Anders. When he was finished, Marcus rose from the chair and stooped down to hug Delores before she could hug him first. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered fiercely.
She hugged him back hard. ‘You’re welcome.’ She let him rise, but didn’t let him go, fisting a small hand in the fabric of his shirt. ‘I don’t know why you need this dog’s owner. But you look like you’re taking this very personally.’
He felt like he owed her an answer. ‘I am.’
‘Why?’ she pressed.
Marcus glanced at Scarlett and she shook her head.
‘You don’t need to know that, Delores,’ she murmured. ‘Trust me?’
Delores turned her head so that she met Scarlett’s eyes, her nod nearly imperceptible. Then she looked back up at Marcus, startling the hell out of him with her next words. ‘If this is about atonement, you don’t have anything to atone for in all that mess nine months ago. You were as much a victim as I was.’